The Inside Story

Chapter 2:
Into hell

After having a rather late night (used by sitting on my small bunk reflecting on life) I was awoken to find Micky shaking me telling me that breakfast would be served in 15 minuets to our block.
I got out of bed (rather slowly, thinking that the food would be shit), and got into my dark green prison uniform and put on my ring (which hung around my neck on a chain (one of my only keepsakes)). Unfortunately I had a rather sleepless night as the large alarm outside in the recreation area kept going off. “What crap we got today then?” I mumbled as I pulled my shirt over my head, the shirt its self was ok it was the dark grey school style trousers I had already started to despise. “I don’t know, most likely something soggy and so mouldy that my dog wouldn’t even eat” Micky chuckled with a grin. The door clunked once, then once again and a fat warden strolled into the cramped cell with a large tray on wheels with two portions of bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes with a large glass of orange juice each. “What you want,” moaned the warden. “What do we want, what?” I asked wondering what the hell he was talking about. “What sodding newspaper do you bloody well want?” he replied giving me an evil glare.
“Don’t give me evils” I said
“I wasn’t, it was a sarcastic look” the warden replied
I was shocked to think he was messing with me, “Whatever” I chuckled.
“I think I’ll have ‘The Times’” said Micky putting on a camp voice and an intellectual look. “I’ll just have anything going” I muttered already starting on the rather generous breakfast we were given.
“Here you go lads” said the warden passing Micky ‘The Times’ and myself the guardian, “enjoy your stay”. As he left I put on a look of disgust and muttered “What the fuck did he mean by “Enjoy your stay”, he’s a right cheeky old git isn’t he!” “Quite” came the blunt reply from Micky who was now looking at me rather bemused, I can’t blame him. So there I was swinging on the bunk with only my feet for support, eating toast with jam, reading the newspaper and talking to him as though he should think so too. I sighed a sigh of wonder, “I wonder where he is”.
“Who?” came the blunt reply from Mikey who was still staring at me.
“Richard”.
“And I go back to the same question” Mickey grumbled, “who?”.
“Richard” I explained, “he’s the guy I was working with when we got busted”.
“I see”, came Mickey once again with a blunt reply.
“I wonder……..”

If you want anymore, tough, i am still working on it!